The salt-heavy wind pressed against Leo's face, stinging his eyes and coating his lips with brine. He stood balanced on the narrow skimmer as it cut across the inlet, its humming repulsor glyphs thrumming like the wings of some invisible insect beneath the plank. The craft looked fragile, little more than driftwood lashed to sigils, yet it rode the waves with uncanny precision.
Spray lashed upward, cold needles against his skin. The horizon glowed with the bruised red of an approaching storm, a smear of light and shadow that made the sea seem endless, restless, alive.
